


Fear's Renegade

by OnEaglesWings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Epilogue, Falling Angels, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Sad Ending, Short One Shot, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:02:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnEaglesWings/pseuds/OnEaglesWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here they are, at the crossroads, with little time left. Dean knows Sam is almost finished with hell’s trials, and Cas has prepared himself to close off heaven in a desperate attempt to save his family. There is so little time left before the levee breaks, and Dean just wants to see his angel. Castiel comes to his side, like he always has, and reassures him that no matter what, they are together. Castiel loves Dean, and they will never be truly alone.</p><p> </p><p>  <em> Take care of yourself, Dean.<em></em></em><br/>And know that you were my family, too.</p><p> </p><p>  <em><br/><br/></em></p><p> </p><p>  <em><br/><em>**set in season 8 finale (SPOILERS)</em><br/></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short fic, some of the scenes are loosely based off edits on tumblr (if you see yours and want credit, please, comment and i will add you) edited by: Alexx  
> Hope you enjoy (and apologies for the sad ending)

“Cas, please.”

Castiel opened his eyes, the sound of Dean’s prayer reverberating around his skull. He was in the same position he had been in for the last few hours, sitting on top of a mountain somewhere in New Zealand, completely alone with his head bowed and arms folded. The rock beneath him seemed frozen, but he couldn’t feel the sensation of actually being cold. Angels weren’t supposed to feel anything.

He sat completely still for a minute, deciding that he had imagined Dean’s voice inside his head. That happened sometimes, against Cas’ will. In truth, he hadn’t spoken to Dean for about three weeks; ever since they last slept together…Cas shuddered and pushed the thought away.

Castiel was the Winchester’s guardian, a position that he did not take lightly, but with Sam trying to complete the trials to close the gates of hell, and Cas working with his fellow angel Metatron to shut the gates of heaven, he had had little time to see either of the brothers, although he kept tabs, watching the pair from a distance. They were both fine young men, smart and strong-willed. They managed to find humor in even the darkest hours, and Cas appreciated their ferocious loyalty up until the very end. Of course, Cas had never planned on falling in love with Dean.

There were very strict rules about angels and humans copulating. Cas had abided these for a long time, following his orders and fighting with his garrison, a team of trustworthy brothers and sisters from heaven. He had been a good soldier to his home, and had high respect from his peers. Cas had been a proud angel. 

Years ago, he had been sent to save the righteous man from the depths of hell. It could have been any angel, but they chose him. He raged war on the demons and came out the other end with the crumpled soul close to his heart, carrying it like a child in his arms, healing its scars and returning it to its body. It had been Dean. And at first, he and Dean had hated each other. Cas was obedient and Dean was fierce and they never seemed to connect, except for the handprint stained on Dean’s shoulder, a mark that showed Castiel was his guardian. They resented each other for awhile, but gradually things changed.

Cas began to rebel with the brothers, fighting against everything he had ever known in a desperate attempt to stop the impending apocalypse brought on by his family. He watched his siblings die, saw Sam become warped and twisted with the burden of saving the world. He felt himself perish at the hands of Lucifer just to save Dean from a similar fate. He felt himself be rebuilt, cell by cell, just in time to watch Sam be cast away. Just in time to heal Dean.

He knew at that point that there was something else between him and Dean. It burned like flames inside him, hot as hellfire. It had been excruciating to watch as Dean lived his domestic life with Lisa, and Cas stood by as Sam emerged from the cage, broken and soulless, and wreaked havoc across America. He took all this pain onto his shoulders, the burden of trying to fix his home, Dean’s organized life crumbling away till he was sucked back into the mess, and he tried so hard to fix all his mistakes. For Dean.

Cas remembered the first time Dean kissed him. The memory wrapped around him like a viper, and Cas almost shuddered at the thought. It had been after a hunt; Dean had almost been killed by a particularly strong vampire. Cas showed up at the last possible second, throwing the beast away and practically vaporizing it, sending the abomination to Purgatory. Dean just stood there for a second, bloody and perfect and Cas could do nothing but stare at his lovely green eyes, his heart shattering with emotions he shouldn’t have been feeling.

Dean pulled him close and kissed him, soft, sweet, and earnest, as if the wrong move could make Castiel fall apart beneath him. They stood there, lips moving together, till Castiel thought better of it and whisked them back to Dean’s motel room, a little more private then the decaying vampire nest. That night, Cas lost his divine virginity to Dean, willingly calling out blasphemy in the heat of pleasure. They had stayed wrapped up together beneath the sheets, and although Cas never slept, he felt almost peaceful as Dean rested beside him.

They moved forward shakily, never outright saying how they felt, but still craving each other’s touch. Cas began to feel himself struggle under the pressure of saving both the brothers and his family. He spent his nights with Dean, tracing patterns onto his back while he slept, a deceitful plan forming in his mind. He loved the Winchesters, but he knew what had to be done. 

When Castiel broke, the world paid the price. After flooding Sam with memories from hell, he left the two brothers defenseless and alone. He became drunk with power, overthrowing heaven and reigning Earth, spreading destruction and chaos throughout the world he had tried to protect, and finally falling apart, the strain of all those souls too much for the body he had taken for his own. Cas breathed his last breath once more, barely having enough time to turn back to Dean and apologize. The words ‘I love you.’ were there on his tongue, but they died along with him as he fell to the ground.

The Leviathan were released from Cas, but when he returned again from the lake, he had no memory of it. He wandered around as Emmanuel, a so-called human healer with a foggy past. He married a woman and settled down to live a normal life. He didn’t even recognized Dean when he showed up on his doorstep. It wasn’t until he killed the demons in front of Sam’s psychiatric hospital that he remembered who he truly was. Castiel, the Angel of Thursday, bringing of destruction and pain. He broke the world and then disappeared, and he let the Winchesters down. All he could think to do was to take on Sam’s devils and bear the insanity and pain himself. He fell deep into madness, and fumbled to help the brothers save the world once again. He called himself useless. Dean forgave him anyway.

Dean and Castiel had been dragged to Purgatory after killing the Leviathan, and Cas ran from Dean, pulling the monsters off Dean’s trail and onto his. He fled for a full year, escaping the beasts until Dean found him, alone and sane once again. Castiel had heard Dean’s prayers throughout their time apart, whispers of painful apologies. Dean begged him to come back; not realizing Cas wasn’t running from Dean. He was running for Dean. Once again, Dean forgave him. Both men managed to escape Purgatory, although Dean had to leave Cas behind for awhile, and they tumbled back into their graceless pattern of making love and speaking as friends. 

When Castiel had been captured by Naomi, he struggled to try and maintain the sanity he had worked so hard for. Naomi had other plans. She intended to turn him into the killing machine he had once been, and to do this she applied rigorous torture, mind control, and forced him to murder hundreds of Dean clones. She watched as he tore down his lover, over and over, until his eyes no longer held that telltale spark of rebellion. They were mute, voiceless, and exactly what she needed.

Castiel held the first clone, and tried to fly them away, but his wings had been roped down, making him weak and powerless. Naomi dragged him off and made him watch as she killed it. It took three other angels to hold Castiel back.

Number 23 called him “Cas” and he dropped to his knees, throwing the angel blade aside. Again, she had to kill that one, but Castiel just sat there and didn’t say a word.

Number 97 kissed him, hard and possessive. That Dean held him close and whispered “Its okay, angel. It’s okay.” Naomi stabbed it from behind and watched as the blood ran over Cas’ shoes. 

Number 234 told Cas he loves him and tried to kiss him softly, pleading with his eyes. Castiel hissed and sank the blade into its heart, throwing it away and screaming. He disappeared. She found him three hours later, sitting in the middle of a warehouse, muttering mathematical equations under his breath.

Number 386 begged Castiel not to kill him and shouted that he’s afraid to die. Cas tried to run, but the other angels forced him back. He slit the clone’s wrists and held that Dean till it stopped breathing. Naomi counted it as a small victory. 

Number 417 called him ‘brother’. Cas cut its throat and turned away till the clone is dead. The bloods all over his hands and he cried over the corpse for forty seven minutes.

Number 653 showed no hesitation, stepping into the knife with a sadistic smile and letting Cas stab him gracelessly in the left lung. It leaned in with dying breath and whispered in Castiel’s ear. “To us, you were never more then a weapon.” Naomi had to call the other angels to stop Castiel from sinking the blade into his own heart after that.

Number 786 grinned, blood pouring from its mouth and choked out, “I never really cared about you.”

Number 804 grabbed his head with both hands and screamed, “You don’t even have a soul.” The whole room is coated red after that, and Castiel refused to change his clothes.

Number 887 spat in his face and snarled, “Angels aren’t capable of real love, you sick sonofabitch.” That one didn’t last very long either.

Number 910 slumped over on the ground, the knife lodged deep in his chest. It looked up at Cas with cold, beautiful green eyes and whispered, “I thought we were family.” After that, Naomi took the murders as mercy killings, but it’s all the same in the end.

Number 948 was cut down sloppily, the blood coating every surface. Cas’ continued to cut viciously into its chest, even after it was dead.

Number 993 didn’t even see Castiel approach from behind. It screamed, but Cas didn’t even look in that direction.

Number 1000 was dead before it even hit the ground.

Number 1002 crumpled down on the tile, Castiel stood over it and turned away. He had broken, and Naomi has won.

Castiel remained distant for months, fighting the urge to break out of the angel’s control and return to Dean. He got close, so close, to everything that Naomi worked for, but when the time came he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill Dean.

Cas disappeared for awhile, only returning when Dean begged him back. They never left each other’s side for a few months, and Dean sat up with him late at night when he screamed about the torture, Cas clutching his head and refusing to let Dean touch him. 

They passed the time together, staring into each other’s eyes with a pure kind of love, unspoken but not unnoticed. It had all been going well, until the silence became too much for Castiel to bear.

It had happened three weeks ago, late at night in a seedy motel room off Interstate 22 in Wisconsin. They had taken a short lived break from the trials and decided to go on a hunt. It was easy, a few demons, and the pair finished the job quickly, returning to their room in the early evening. Now, Cas and Dean lay in bed together, Cas’ head on Dean’s chest, his wings curled around them, although Dean couldn’t see the soft black feathers caressing his cheek. They had just finished, and both men were satisfied and sedated. It slipped out of his lips without Castiel meaning for it to be said.

“I love you, Dean.” It had been quiet; nearly a whisper of Cas’ gravelly baritone voice, but Dean heard it all the same. Cas had been thinking about saying it for months, but the timing never seemed right. Dean had been dreading this moment his whole life. He froze underneath Cas and grinded his teeth.

It was quiet for a minute, tension seeping into the air. Cas was unaware of Dean’s emotions, he simply laid there, staring at the freckles spattered across Dean’s skin. His heart was beating hard in his chest. Dean pulled himself away from Cas and stood up, walking away from the bed to the other side of the room. 

Cas sat up and watched him move. Dean turned back around, and his green eyes were harder then Cas remembered. “What did you say?” His voice was silky and rough at the same time, making Cas quiver.

Cas’ eyes widened and he shrugged. “I guess I said I loved you.”

Dean curled his hands up and flexed his jaw. Cas watched the little indent form under Dean’s cheek and disappear just as quickly. Dean only did that when he was angry or upset. Cas felt his stomach drop. It was quiet again, both men never breaking the eye contact they held. Cas spoke first. “Don’t you love me, too?”

Dean shook his head slowly, baring his teeth like he was in pain, Cas’ innocent question like a knife in Dean’s chest. Cas slumped down in the bed, the sheets pooled around him. He barely even heard Dean hiss from across the room. “You don’t even know what love is, Cas.”

Cas felt his skin flush. “How do you know that, Dean? I could know it better then you.” Dean just shook his head again and turned away. If Cas had been human, he might have cried. Instead he stood; retrieving his clothes so when Dean turned back around, Cas was dressed again in his suit, tie, and trenchcoat. Dean’s eyes travelled down the length of Cas’ body, desire igniting in him despite the situation. Cas had that effect on people, he was so unaware of the magnitude of his beauty it drove Dean mad. Castiel ran a hand through his hair and glared at Dean.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice was cold. “This isn’t love. Not by a long shot. We don’t get a happy ever after in the sunset, this is it. Okay?” He didn’t know why he was lying through his teeth. Castiel was his best friend, and he had loved him for as long as he could remember. It was too much.

Cas turned away from him, putting as much space between them as possible. “If you don’t love me, Dean, then what’s the point of this?” When he turned back Dean couldn’t meet his eyes.

“There is no point, Cas. There never was.” He stared at the floor while Castiel gazed at him. 

Cas nodded, his lips in a thin, straight line. “This is over, isn’t it?”

Dean stayed silent. It was tense for a minute, till Dean heard the sweeping sound of Cas’ wings against the air. He looked up and scanned the room. The bed was made, Dean’s clothes were on the floor, and Cas was gone. The hum of electricity that Cas always seemed to bring around him faded, until Dean just felt alone.

“Cas, I know you can hear me. Please. I need you.” Dean’s prayers whispered in the wind against Castiel’s face. The mountain really was beautiful. He stood and stared at the stretch of open sky all around him. He shut his eyes and beat his wings against the cool air. Within seconds he was standing in Dean’s motel room, watching his lover pace back and forth across the floor. Cas remained invisible to Dean, choosing instead to just stand there watching him.

“Cas, I was an idiot, okay? I need you here, please. Do this for me…” Dean rubbed his forehead and grabbed the whiskey bottle off the counter. “I can’t say it, Cas. I can’t, and I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you wanted but I don’t have that power in me. I’m too weak to support something that big.” Dean turned his head up to the ceiling. “I never deserved you anyway.”

Cas materialized behind him. “I thought you weren’t the praying type, Dean Winchester.”

Dean jumped and nearly spilled his whiskey. “Jesus, Cas, I-“

“Do you really believe that?” Dean stared at him with wide eyes.

 

Castiel took a menacing step forward, fire burning in his eyes. “Do you really believe that? That you don’t deserve me?” Dean nodded slowly and Castiel shook his head. “You just don’t see it, do you, Dean?”

Dean sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, bringing the whiskey to his lips and draining the glass. “I don’t see what, angel?” He sounded tired.

Cas advanced on him again, standing in front of Dean, his voice soft but low. “Don’t you understand what it could be like? You’ll never be faultless, but I can fill the void in you. I can help you let go of the sins you’ve learned in life. Let me in, Dean, I can help you.”

Dean looked up at him, his eyes blown wide with fear. “I-I don’t think I can, Cas.”

He knelt down to be eye level with Dean, his palms resting on the other man’s thighs. “You’ve already begun.”

“I’m not perfect.”

Cas leaned forward, their lips brushing together, and whispered softly. “And I have never expected you to be anything but human.”

Dean closed his eyes and pulled back gently. “Cas, I’m poison. You could get hurt if-“

He kissed Dean’s forehead. “You are a good man.”

“No.” Dean’s voice cracked, splitting down the word. “I’m not.”

Castiel reached up and brushed a hand through Dean’s hair. “You are so good.” His voice was stronger this time. A tear slid down Dean’s cheek, and Cas reached to brush it away. Dean bit his lip, a small sound emanating from his throat. “I’m so happy, Dean, so happy to have met you and touched you.” He kissed Dean’s lips till they parted slightly. “So happy to have loved you.”

Dean took a breath, his eyes opening, full of tears. His eyes searched Castiel’s face for any sign of deception but there was none. Castiel really just loved him. Dean leaned forward and pressed their lips together, reaching a hand behind Cas’ head to pull at his hair gently. Castiel shifted them till they were lying on the bed, with Cas on top. Their lips collided, slowly at first then faster and faster.

Dean loosened Cas’ tie like fluid and pulled it off of him, while Cas let his trench coat fall to the side. It was fast and hurried, both men still not entirely sure this was reality, but hoping it was. Dean tugged his grey shirt over his head and rolled over, straddling Castiel with his legs. He unbuttoned the white collared shirt Cas always wore and slipped it down the other man’s arms. He gripped Cas’ wrists and brought them above his head, pinning him down, and began to kiss along Cas’ jaw.

“Dean.” Cas breathed, his eyes slipping shut. Dean grinned and kissed his mouth, leaving his lips pink and shiny. Their tongues moved in tandem, passionate and fiery, everything they had been craving for the past three weeks. 

Cas pushed himself upright, settling Dean into his lap, running a hand down the other man’s back and feeling the bumps of his spine. The human body never ceased to amaze Castiel, and Dean’s was a prime example of everything that was good in the world. Cas moaned and Dean cupped his face in his palm. He would’ve grimaced at their position, he was used to being the dominant one, but looking into Cas’ eyes made all of that disappear. This is where he needed to be, he knew that now.

Cas paused and pulled back, an unreadable look settling on his face. “Dean.”

Dean licked his lips and watched Cas’ eyes move down before returning to their powerful stare. “Yeah, babe?”

“What exactly were you doing before I came?” Dean pulled his eyebrows together.

“On a hunt a few miles north of here, some nasty shifters, no big deal. Cleaned it up nicely, and then called Sam back at the bunker…then this.” Dean paused. “Why?”

Cas smirked and ran a hand down the front of Dean’s chest. “I don’t mean to, how do you say, ruin the moment, but you smell…absolutely terrible. Were you hunting in the sewers, perhaps?”

Dean tipped his head back, laughing loudly, his whole body shaking in a way that Castiel had always loved. “I haven’t exactly had much time to shower. Been busy with the trials, you know?” Cas nodded and cocked his head. 

“You haven’t been sleeping either. I can taste all the alcohol and caffeine on your tongue.”

Dean looked at his for a moment with surprise all over his face, but it was gone soon after that. He shook his head, as if he was embarrassed. “Yeah, I’ve been better.” He looked across the room to the door, his eyes lingering there for a second before sliding back over Cas’ face. “I guess I missed you more then I let on. A lot more, in case you were wondering.” He couldn’t meet Cas’ eyes.

“Well, Dean, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Cas put his hands under Dean’s chin, lifting the man’s face till they were level. “You don’t have to miss me any longer, I’m here.” Dean kissed him then, slow and careful, as if gauging how sincere that proclamation was.

“I think I should shower.” Dean whispered, pulling back and grinning. “Care to join me, angel?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Dean, angels don’t have to shower we are always clean, there’s no need for….oh…” He felt Dean’s hands, running over him slowly, memorizing every inch of the borrowed skin that Castiel had claimed as his own. He understood Dean’s reasoning now, feeling the intense sexual tension between them. He lifted Dean up into his arms.

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean laughed, feeling slightly awkward being carried across the room. “Why are you carrying me?”

Cas grinned at him, crossing towards the small bathroom and the stand-in shower. “Because I love you. And because I can, you know, you’re obscenely light for a man your size.”

Dean leaned his head back, allowing himself to be taken bridal style to the shower. “Freakin’ angels, man, I swear sometimes you guys are weirder then Manson.”

Cas screwed up his face. “I don’t understand that reference.” He put Dean on his feet right outside the bathroom door. Dean pushed him gently up against the frame, kissing his neck till his breath left him.

“Figured.” Dean’s breath was hot against Cas’ already feverish skin. “What do you say, babe? Have I made the past three weeks up to you yet?”

Cas pushed him back and undressed, grinning the whole time. “You’re getting there, Dean. You’re getting there.”

****

Castiel lay next to Dean, hair still dripping form their rendezvous in the shower. They had stretched out their time beneath the soapy water till it ran icy cold, and neither man could stand under it for more then a few seconds. Dean was clean now and smelled like cinnamon and leather, something Cas wished he could wrap himself up in every day.

“Cas?” It was Dean’s whisper in the dark. Cas rolled over, facing Dean’s side, not touching him but consciously feeling the small heat waves coming off the other man’s skin.

“Yes, Dean?” Dean shifted also, so that their faces were parallel, close enough that their noses brushed at every movement.

“After everything we’ve been through…the apocalypse, the whole God thing, Leviathan…” Dean paused, collecting his thoughts. “Do you think these trials will fix everything? You think next month when it’s all over we will still be here, like this?”

Cas turned to face the ceiling, the cool air pressed against his bare skin, creating a sort of pressure that made it hard to breath. Castiel didn’t like thinking about all the mistakes he had committed on the road here. He had fucked up the world beyond salvation. The pressure got worse. He shifted farther from Dean, memories of all the terrible things circling him, ready to strike.

“I caused all those problems, Dean, and this will fix them. It won’t…make up for the lost time, but it’s something, right?” He felt the press of Dean’s head against his chest. He wrapped an arm around the other man.

“Yeah, Cas, it’s something. You know the worst part about all those things?” Cas sighed and shrugged, his hand flat against Dean’s back. “It wasn’t the impending doom, or all the death, or even how painful it seemed. It was how many times I thought I had lost you for good.”

The silence swelled after Dean’s final word, filling the room. Castiel shut his eyes, willing the sting behind his lids to disappear. “Are you scared, Dean?” His voice sounded broken.

Dean moved even closer, till they were against each other completely. “Sammy’s gonna be fine, just fine, I know that. We just need to finish the trials and get on with the family business but…this whole reunion thing up in heaven? Yeah, that shit’s got me freaked. They could kill you, Cas.”

“They won’t.”

Dean huffed. “And you know this how?”

Castiel was quiet for a moment, his eyes still shut, the blackness swirling around in front of him. “Because they’re all I have of a family. It’s me and them watching over the world. With our Father gone, we have too much to lose, they wouldn’t risk it.”

Dean shifted himself till he was looking down at Cas’ closed eyes. He kissed his eyelids in turn till they opened. Even in the strange green light coming from the streetlamp outside their window, Cas’ eyes glowed cerulean, a beautiful tidal wave of blue and silver. “I’m your family, Cas. Me and Sam, we got you. The three of us have always been enough; you don’t need to go back to those dickless….what’s the word you used?”

Cas grinned, his teeth shining. “Assbutts.”

“Exactly! You don’t need them when you have us.” Dean lay back down. It was hushed except for the distant sounds of tires on the road, neon signs flickering, the world moving outside their window. Dean felt his throat close up. “You’re still going to try, aren’t you?”

Cas’ response was low, but it burrowed into Dean’s mind all the same. “Yes, Dean. You would do the same if you were me.”

Cas dipped his head down to kiss Dean’s hair. He looked back up and their lips connected softly. Dean hummed into his mouth before pulling back, gripping Castiel’s shoulder. “Just promise me one thing.” Cas cocked his head. “You’ll be here when I wake up. I’m tired of finding you gone.”

Cas pulled Dean back down, settling back against the covers. “I’ll be here, Dean. I won’t leave.”

Dean’s eyes were already sliding shut, the mixture of stress, exhaustion and sex finally beginning to take its toll. “Do you promise?” His voice was already fading.

“Yes, Dean. I promise.”

Cas lay there for awhile, a small prayer forming in his mind.

It was just a whisper into the darkened motel room. “Father, please forgive me, for I have sinned. The Bible says that a man shall not lay with another man, yet as I look at this man so close to me, his chest rising and falling within the perfect rhythm of sleep, and his skin pressed against mine…I don’t think I was to be forgiven at all.”

*****

“How sweet.” Cas opened his eyes to the low drawl. It wasn’t Dean’s voice; he could feel Dean’s steady breathing against his neck. Cas had closed his eyes as soon as Dean fell asleep, he remained suspended in that strange almost-resting tranquility that only an angel could achieve. Sometimes, Castiel wished he could sleep and dream, instead of lying in that bed for hours, waiting till sunrise.

He turned his head to see Metatron standing in the corner of the room, grinning at Cas tangled up in the sheets. Castiel scrunched up his nose, Metatron smelled like some sort of fish.

“Come on, angel, we’ve got work to do. Leave the puppydog behind.”

Cas slipped out of the bed and stood awkwardly for a second, acutely aware of how naked he was. “Metatron. I’m afraid this is not a good time.” Metatron kept his eyes level ad narrowed.

“Oh, Castiel, I was there for the dawn of creation, I won’t get all flustered over a little nudity. Now, let’s move.” He turned but Cas didn’t follow. “Castiel. The trials will be completed tonight. You’ll never have to set foot on this Earth again. Now, come with me.”

Cas pulled his clothes on, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Dean rolled over in the bed and moaned quietly in his sleep. Cas stared longingly at the space next to Dean. Metatron rolled his eyes. Cas went forward and touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead, delivering him good dreams and a peaceful rest.

“When will I be able to return to him?” Cas’ voice was low.

“Never.” He felt his blood go to ice just at those words. “Winchester will stay here on Earth and you’ll be up in heaven. You knew that, Castiel. It’s no science.”

Cas turned back toward the angel, his eyes in slits. “You never told me it was indefinite. I can’t just leave him.”

Metatron crossed his arms over his stout body. “It’s too late for that. The trials are almost done; we just have one final piece and then poof. It’s over.” His voice softened. “Say goodbye to him, make sure he gets the message.” He paused at the door. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

Cas stood silent, once again alone with Dean. He could wake Dean up, explain everything, try and make it all better again, but what would that suffice? Dean would get angry and yell, try and convince Cas to stay behind and Castiel would have to refuse him. Cas looked around the small room and grabbed the pen and notebook lying on the counter.

He wanted to tell Dean he would miss him and that even though he was leaving, he would try and return, even if it meant tearing down the walls of heaven piece by piece. He wanted to pour out every syllable of affection that ran through his head, but it was a small piece of paper, and Cas was out of time.

He wrote, the words tracing the paper elegantly, but Cas’ real pleas were only formed in his own head. “He knows.” Cas whispered to himself. “He knows, so you don’t have to say it.” The letter was cold and silent, what Castiel wished was not written down, instead, he wrote what he knew would break Dean’s heart.

_“Dear Dean,  
You will be alright without me, maybe better then you are.” _

I do love you. I think I’ve always loved you.

_“Stay with Sam, and keep him safe. You two need each other.”_

I’m sorry for all the times I’ve let you down. I promised to try and redeem myself to you, but now…I don’t think I can.

_“Heaven needs me. And I need heaven. I’m an angel, and my family requires my help. The trials will be completed tonight. By morning, Metatron and I will have closed the gates to my home.”_

If I don’t survive this, will you cry for me? I’m scared, so very scared, of what my brothers and sisters might do to your Earth.

_“I’m sorry to leave like this.”_

Saving you was the best thing I ever did, and I should’ve kissed you sooner. I only wish we could have had more time to be together.

_“I will try and fix what I have broken.”_

I know that I need you, but I don’t understand how this could be. You’re so human, so broken. You make me wish circumstances were different. I would enjoy being human if I had gotten to experience it next to you.

_“Take care of yourself, Dean.”_

And know that you were my family, too.

_“Sincerely, Castiel.”_

Castiel placed the note next to Dean and turned to leave. There was the cool press of fingers against his forehead, a fishy smell, and then total and complete darkness.

Cas struggled into conciseness, jerking upwards in a padded chair, his head throbbing. His feet and hands were held down by metal clamps. Cas opened his eyes and stared around the room. The air tasted metallic, like blood, and he turned to see Naomi sprawled out on the desk, blood pouring from a wound in her head. Metatron stood in the corner, an evil smile on his face. “Sorry, cupcake.” He faked a pout then smirked. “Couldn’t have you running away now, could we?” 

“M-Metatron? What’s happening? Get me out of here.” The stinging behind his eyes intensified and he screamed; the sound grating against his ears. Metatron laughed loudly, and eventually the pain ebbed away. “You.” Cas clenched his teeth. “What have you done?”

“Castiel…”Metatron advanced forward. Cas’ vision blurred. He opened his mouth to speak but his tongue was numb and unmovable. _Let me out of here!_ No sound came. “I want you to stop thinking about master plans, heaven, angels….all this? It doesn’t concern you.” _Don’t touch me. I said DON’T TOUCH ME!_

Metatron ran a hand through Cas’ hair and leaned down, pressing his lips against Castiel’s. Cas struggled against him, but he was held down, pressed backwards by some divine force. _Stop it, you bastard, only he’s allowed to do that._ Cas felt a tear trickle down his face. _DEAN, please, help me._ Metatron pulled back, almost reluctantly.

“These….these were never trials, Castiel.” He stepped back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Cas feels something at his neck, a burn almost. His grace, being dragged out of him, bit by bit, until he was left defenseless, Cas tried to scream again, but it came out as a gag low in his throat. “This is a spell. I’m taking from you…your essence, your grace. It’s the last piece. You’re still an angel, of course, and you’ll still…go down with the ship, as they say.” Metatron leaned over Cas, his face alight in some blue glow. _Please._ It was a soft cry, Cas was pleading now.

Metatron smiled down at him, tracing a finger down Cas’ cheekbones. Cas felt himself fading, all his power and might evaporating into nothing. His hand skated over Castiel’s skin, and the burn around his neck faded. Air filled his lungs again; Cas was surprised to find he was gasping for it. “And now, something wonderful is going to happen. For me, at least, but not for you. I hope you’ve lived your life to the fullest, Castiel.” He turned from the chair. “It didn’t have to end this way. We could have helped each other, but you…you were OBSESSED with saving that one human.” He turned back, his hand suspended over Cas’ forehead. “This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? Saving Dean Winchester?”

Cas coughed, finding his voice back where it belongs. “I…love him…”

Metatron sneered. “Well, I hope that he was worth it.” He pressed the palm of his sweaty hand against Cas forehead. Everything was awash in hot white light. It burned inside Castiel’s very being, igniting him with the odd sensation…of falling.

The wind whipped against Cas’ face, but this isn’t right. He was in bed with Dean, wasn’t he? How is he falling from the sky when just a second ago he was…?

The smell of something scorched blew past him, and he didn’t even feel the feathers burning off his wings. His face felt cold, but it’s all too loud and there are noises and screams that Castiel almost recognized. Is this hell? No, Castiel has been there before, to save the Righteous Man, and he’s waiting, Cas should be waiting for morning to wake up next to him. 

His body dragged through the air, the tan trenchcoat that always seems to be wrapped around him is blocking his vision, but it blows away, and Cas is hurtling towards the ground like a locomotive, a million miles an hour. There are lights falling with him, but they aren’t lights, they are angels and they are dying.

Cas felt agony on his back, as though he’s being torched alive. His eyesight swam and he heard Led Zeppelin. Is it Ramble On? That was the one Dean always used to play in the Impala, he would sing along with the lyrics and put his hand on Cas’ knee. There is shouting and blurred movement, but the pain is too much. Castiel always believed dying would be honorable, but this is worse then torture. 

Is this real? Maybe I imagined the whole thing; maybe I’ll wake up next to Dean. _Angels don’t sleep._ I know, but this isn’t actually happening, I didn’t leave Dean. _He kissed you, then you said goodbye._

Cas threw his head back, staring up at the spinning sky, full of falling angels, and now he waits for the ground, waits for the impending impact, for his body to shatter and be gone, for good. Cas closed his eyes, the pain becoming too much for him, he’s weak, and alone and _Dean never actually loved him._ But, maybe he did, Cas will never know and that hurts deep down in his stomach. 

It’s warm in Castiel’s mind, he can hear the LEGOs rattling around in the heating duct while Sam laughs at a joke Dean made. They are hunting and travelling, family, real family, Cas. Lips press against his and they taste like cinnamon and there’s the sweet perfume of leather, and a man is singing along to a Zeppelin song, it’s a good one, Dean’s favorite, as a sleek black car bolts down a highway, toward a motel off Interstate 22. It all swims in front of him, blurring away until finally all he can see is a devilish smile and a pair of wide, bright, jade-green eyes. 

Cas doesn’t even feel his body hitting the Earth. It hurts, but not how he imagined it. There isn’t the snap of bones or the feeling of being torn apart. His insides just ache and there is blood everywhere, but this is okay. He can die like this, if he has no other choice.

“Cas, shit, Cas! Please talk to me.” Dean’s face appeared above him. _No, please, no. Don’t let him see me like this._ Dean’s eyes widen and he touched Castiel’s face. Everything smells like blood, the air, their clothes, even the ground below him. “You stupid, sorry sonofabitch, why did you trust him?” Dean looked up, glaring around them, searching for some kind of help.

“SAM! Fuck, Cas, Sam’s getting help it’ll be just-“ Dean pulled Cas’ trenchcoat back and stared down in horror. There’s red. Everywhere. It coated every inch of Cas’ chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. “No.” Dean’s voice shakes.

“I-It’s okay, Dean.” Blood dribbled from the corner of Cas’ lips. His eyes glistened with tears that drip down his dirt-covered cheeks. Dean put pressure on the cut down Castiel’s chest but the blood just keeps coming, way more then Dean ever thought humanly possible. He looked down at his grey plaid shirt. It was covered with Cas’ blood. Cas smiled sadly up at Dean, watching the other man struggle to save his life. “Dean, you c-can’t stop…it. Metatron…lied. He wasn’t trying to help me he was-“

“PLEASE, Cas, stop talking, you’re making it worse!” Cas closed his lips and shook his head. “Cas, please.” His hands moved franticly, trying to gauge the chances of his angel pulling through. There wasn’t supposed to be this much blood. 

Dean leaned down, pressing his face against Cas’ chest, searching for the smell of grass and rainfall. He smelled like tears and dirt. Dean pulled back, feeling the wetness on his face. He leaned down and kissed Castiel gently, his hand resting against his cheek. Cas tasted like blood.

“I love…you, Dean.” Cas mumbled against his lips. His eyes were etched with agony, every breath becoming labored and washed out. Blood trickled down his chin in small crimson rivulets. Dan heard the pounding of Sam’s footsteps.

“Dean, I can’t get a signal, they’re falling everywhere, I-“He stopped dead, staring at the tattered man lying on the ground. His hand covered his mouth, eyes agape in horror.

“Sam, what are you doing? Get over here and HELP ME! Please, we have to save him!” Dean sobbed. Cas grabbed at his arm, and Dean returned by squeezing his hand. There was a sick sort of silence for a few moments.

Sam stood frozen in his spot without blinking. Cas coughed, his body writhing. His breaths forced their way out of his throat, sounding wet and broken. “D-Dean…” He gasped in. His eyes fluttered for a moment, resting on Dean’s face above him. A small smile played across his lips as the air escaped him one last time.

“Cas? Castiel? WAIT, no, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. Do you hear that? I LOVE YOU. C’mon, c’mon you sonofabitch, I wouldn’t leave you!” Castiel was limp. Dean screamed, the sound tearing out of his throat, and it joined with all the others, the angels, dying. Bleeding. Falling. Dean sobbed, twisting the trenchcoat in both his fists, bringing the rough fabric to his lips. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way. I was supposed to die before you.” Cas’ eyes were closed. It was over. 

The Angel of Thursday was finished.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the epilogue. Please check out the other fic i wrote (highschool AU) and stay tuned for more to come. Thank you!

There was fire in Dean’s eyes the night he found Metatron. It blazed like the wings etched onto the ground outside of a motel along Interstate22. Dean had watched the love of his life burn away in a thick blue light, leaving behind a tattered trenchcoat and the markings of scorched wings. The trenchcoat didn’t fit Dean like it fit Cas but he wore it anyways. It fell around him as a constant reminder of what had to be avenged.

Dean had pulled out all the stops to get here. The Mark of Cain had been just the beginning, slaughtering Abbadon and fighting his way through hoards of angels, those were all necessary. The angels had fallen and drifted across America, begging for someone to save them. Metatron stepped up, promising a ‘New Way’ or some other bullshit, Dean really didn’t care. It didn’t matter that his veins felt like lava or that even seeing blood made his vision go blurry. He was obsessed with killing the one angel who had ruined everything, it controlled him in the months it took to track Metatron down and kill all his angelic bodyguards. Sam tried to stop him, but he didn’t understand. Dean needed this; he needed to see that fucking murderer choke.

“Metatron.” It was a growl from Dean’s lips. Metatron stood in the center of a warehouse in Oklahoma, on a Thursday in December. He was surrounded by a pool of light from an overhead lamp like the new Christ. It made Dean’s stomach turn.

“Hello, Dean. How nice of you and Sam to stop by.” Sam stood by Dean’s side, his angel blade poised and ready. Dean had Castiel’s in his left hand; the right was too jittery to hold a weapon. The Mark was itching for blood.

The Winchesters stepped out of the shadows into Metatron’s halo. Dean stalked in front of him and Sam went behind, both ready to make a move if threatened. “You’re not an easy man to find. It took us a little while. But here we are, fucker, and you’re gonna get what’s due.”

“And what is due, Dean? Please, I’m a storyteller. Castiel was a necessary piece that had to be sacrificed for the greater good. He-“

“Don’t you dare say his name!” Dean stepped forward and Sam hissed in warning. Metatron was still an angel that could rip him to shreds with a flick of his wrist. This had to be done right, or they would all end up dead. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean. You’re SO angry. I see you’ve got that ugly coat on, it’s a nice touch, I must admit, but there is nobody here to help you. Your story, Dean, you and Castiel, you had the most epic of tragedies! I couldn’t have written it better if I tried! It had romance and death and betrayal. It is a masterpiece.” He stepped out of the light, closer to Dean. “Don’t fuck with my story. You won’t like your ending.”

“That’s real poetic, doushbag, but me and Sam are gonna-“ Metatron flicked his wrist and Sam flew across the room, his angel blade flying from his grip as he crashed into the stone wall. He slumped over on the ground, blood trickling from his lips. 

“SAMMY? SAM!” Dean tried to move but his whole body was frozen in place.

“Poor, Dean. You know, when Cas was falling, I got to hear his thoughts. Kind of like a prayer. Actually, it really was nothing like a prayer, he was screaming for help from…you.” Metatron gave him a toothy smile. “And where were you, Dean? While your little guardian angel fell from grace?” Dean struggled against whatever he had binding him, but it was useless. He couldn’t even yell out to Sam anymore. “You’re nothing. A pathetic waste of a legend, a waste, might I add, of a perfectly good story. The Righteous Man could have been anyone!” Metatron threw his arms out. “But it had to be you.”

Dean felt the tension rush out of his limbs, set free from whatever binding spell the angel had put him in. He rushed forward, blade ready. There was a clash of fighting, Metatron writhed and twisted while Dean saw red. He had a good hold on Metatron, but the angel had the blade. It was an even fight, if Dean hadn’t been so angry he would’ve sunk the blade through Metatron’s chest. Metatron whirled around, his face inches from Dean’s and gave him a yellow, toothy smile. All it took was a flick of his wrist for Dean to go flying across the room, slamming into the brick wall with a sickening thump. He raised his green eyes in a split second and saw the silver knife sink into his heart.

Dean gasped, feeling the cold metal rip apart his tendons, his muscle, pierce his bone, bringing along a pain he never thought was possible. Two seconds passed and Metatron pulled the blade out of him. Dean felt his shirt go warm with blood, his breathing already shabby. Metatron laughed leaning down closer to Dean. The Mark of Cain burned on his arm, screaming out from his skin.

“You see, Dean? You’re a fool, and now…you’ve lost. Everything. I WIN!” He spit near Dean’s neck, giggling manically. “You thought you could beat me? I’m going to flambé your dear brother, and there isn’t a soul on Earth who can stop me.” He cackled again, throwing his head back.

“Guess again, bitch.” Even through the agony, he was awash in shock seeing Gabriel standing in front of him. He looked older, more tired, but the devious spark was still in his hazel eyes and he towered with an unmistakable grace. Metatron froze.

“That’s…that’s not possible. Y-You’re dead, we all saw you die.” His voice was shaking. Dean nearly laughed, but it came out as blood dribbling down his chin, gurgling up his throat. The pain was giving way to something worse: unconsciousness.

“Howdy, Dean-o. You’re not lookin’ so good; I’ll take care of you in a second.” He turned and advanced on Metatron. “Right after I deal with this fucker.”

It was over within seconds. Metatron bared his wings, a pair of stunning brown feathers splaying out, and tried to fly, but Gabriel had the same idea. His wings were gold, and shined like silk. Dean had never seen something so beautiful in his entire life. He gasped despite himself, sending a ripping hurt through his chest. Gabriel threw Metatron, knocking out half the wall, and surged forward. He held him up in the air in front of Dean by his throat.

Gabriel seethed like a dog, but Dean saw the tears leaking out of his eyes. “This is for Castiel, you bastard.” He lifted his own angel blade and stabbed it into Metatron’s heart. There was a scream, and a pop. Light filled Dean’s eyes, but he couldn’t bear to look away. When his vision returned he saw Gabriel standing over Sam, touching three fingers to his forehead. The younger brother stood, staring wide eyed at Gabe, before turning and finding Dean on the ground, bleeding out. Poor Sammy was speechless.

The pair was on Dean in seconds; Gabe laid a palm on Dean’s forehead and shut his eyes. His face was etched with concentration. Gabe cursed and pulled back, but not before sweeping a hand through Dean’s hair. “I can’t heal him.”

Sam was putting pressure on Dean’s wound, trying to cease the angry blood flowing from the hole. “You…what? You’re an angel! Help him!”

Gabe looked mournfully at Dean. “He’s got the Mark of Cain. There’s nothing I can do but take away that burden. He will die, but his soul wont be trapped here as a demon.”

“D-Do it.” Dean’s breaths were ragged. Gabriel nodded, rolled up Dean’s sleeve and passed his hand over the Mark. It burned, but Dean gritted his teeth, the red fading from behind his eyelids. It subsided, and Dean’s arm was unmarred, just another inch of clear skin. “T-Thank you, Gabriel. You’re…a good man. Take care of my, b-brother, please.” Gabe nodded and leaned in, kissing Dean’s forehead. He looked at him for a moment then stepped back, standing off at a distance, his wings fading in a shower of gold.

“Dean, c’mon, man. Please, don’t do this. We…we’ll find a doctor, or a spell, you’re going to be okay.” Sam kneeled, taking his head in both his hands. 

Dean smiled, blood coating his face. “Listen to me…its better this way.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “What?”

Dean leaned back, his head resting against the bricks. “Sam, the Mark…it was making me into something I didn’t want to be.”

“Forget about that, Dean, forget about that.” Sam hauled him to his feet, half dragging, half carrying him across the room. Dean felt a pang of nostalgia at being carried like this.

“Hold up, please.” Dean’s voice was throaty now. Gabe stood to the side, his eyes holding unshed tears. “I-I gotta say something”

Sam pulled them down, Dean kneeling now. The blood was still flowing, and everything was getting woozy. Dean gripped Sam’s shoulder, willing himself not to submit to unconsciousness. “What, Dean?”

Dean smiled lazily this time, a grin spreading out easily across his face. It was hard to breathe now, the edges of his vision going black. “I’m proud of us.” It slipped out of his mouth, slippery like blood, and tasted metallic. He winked at Sam before slumping over, too exhausted to keep his eyes open. He barely heard Sam’s cries over the sound of beating wings. He felt his chest expand, filling up with warmth and light. Dean knew what dying felt like, but this time was different. This time he was ready.

It was a Thursday in December when God made an exception. The Righteous Man was dying on Earth, and God had shown him mercy.

Dean opened his eyes. It was warm and sunny like summertime. He sat up slowly, waiting for his joints to ache or crack like they always did. He felt completely alive and when he looked down he was wearing a faded green T-shirt and jeans. There was no blood on anything, in fact, they were clean. He breathed out through his teeth, his eyes adjusting enough to look around.

He was in an apple orchard that seemed to go on forever. It stretched out in every direction, large trees full of swollen red apples. It was beautiful and smelled like fresh grass and rainfall. He stood shakily, looking around him. There were trees everywhere so he started walking.

His pockets were empty, except for the amulet Sam gave him which had long since disappeared. He hung it carefully around his neck, feeling a small comfort in the weight.

There was a small whoosh behind him and he turned around, throwing a punch before he thought better of it.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Dean, I’m here to help you!”

Dean squinted. “Gabriel? Where the hell are we?” He helped the archangel to his feet.

Gabriel smirked and twirled his arms. “Heaven, baby, an all-you-can-eat paradise, right in front of us. Yours is special, seeing as you’re the Chosen One or whatever. I’m here to guide you to where you need to be.”

Dean let his eyes wander over the periwinkle blue sky and green grass. “This is my heaven?” This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a seedy motel with a cold shower and Cas in his arms. To him, that was bliss.

Gabe rolled his eyes. “No, dipshit, you don’t get your own corner of the sky, didn’t you hear me? You’re special. This place will take you wherever you want to be.”  
“Wherever? Just places, then?” Gabe nodded, and Dean tried to hide the disappointment burning in his heart.

Gabe smirked and grabbed a low-hanging apple from the tree right next to them. “You know, angels usually just evaporate when they get smoked. They have no free will, no emotion, no nothing, so there’s nothing to salvage or gain. Once angels are dead they are dead for good. Except me of course.” He winked, and despite the humor, Dean turned away. Gabe paused, munching thoughtfully on the red fruit. “Unless, of course, there was something to save, maybe, true-fucking-love for example.” Dean lifted his eyes.

“What are you talking about, Gabriel?” 

Gabe huffed and tossed the half eaten apple away. “Dean, you’re lucky you’re so pretty cause you’re dumb as dirt.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “Walk eighty-two trees down north and then make a left. No more, no less, you hear me? He’s waiting.” Gabriel turned to leave, his wings flaring out again. “Oh and Dean? I’ll be seeing you real soon.” He moved his eyebrows up and down and then vanished, leaving Dean with his heart hammering in his chest,

He sprinted down the rows of trees, counting in his head as he went. He stopped at the eightieth tree and slowly walked past the next two, turning the corner and holding his breath.

Castiel was standing in the sunshine, looking up at the sky with his head tilted. His eyes were squinty, but it wasn’t from the brightness. He stood with his hands in his pockets of an old trenchcoat, but what amazed Dean the most was the huge black wings spread out against the sky.

They were incredible, and as Cas turned to him, a grin on the face Dean had known and loved, the wings flapped lightly, like an excited puppy’s tail.

Dean nearly stumbled forward, finding he was speechless at the worst moment. He wrapped his arms around Cas and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with Castiel’s sweet smell. He pulled back and ran a hand down his jaw.

Cas smiled, coy and happy, as if he had been waiting for this his entire life, which maybe he had been, Dean wasn’t sure.

“Cas…you…you’re beautiful. I love you. I’m so sorry I didn’t say it sooner, I-“

Cas kissed his lips lightly, pulling back, his blue eyes gleaming. “Its okay, Dean. I love you too. Now, let’s go get our paradise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment/kudos if you enjoyed, thanks so much for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> An epilogue is on the way, this isnt the end!!  
> Please comment/kudos, I love the feedback. Thanks for reading.


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